


Quite Harmoniously

by AmityRavenclawElf



Series: Yandere Characters [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Forced Relationship, Forced kisses, Founders Are Friends, Gen, Kidnapping, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Yandere Gryffindor, Yandere Hogwarts Founders, Yandere Hufflepuff, Yandere Ravenclaw, Yandere Slytherin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2020-03-02 17:40:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18815812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmityRavenclawElf/pseuds/AmityRavenclawElf
Summary: You are a peer to them, but you're no scholar; it is honestly befuddling that these four academics have taken such a shine to you. But now that they have, it seems they are not willing to let you go...





	1. Chapter 1

You are a peer to them, but you’re no scholar; you just happen to work at the tavern where they often meet up. Rowena would drag you into their debates before she even knew your name.

“Miss, you know I’m not as smart as any of you, don’t you?” you would say, uncomfortably.

(“You’re making them uncomfortable, Rowena,” Helga observed the first time it happened, flashing an apologetic look your way.)

“I’m aware that your intelligence is of a non-academic bent, if that’s what you’re asking,” Rowena said, “but academia doesn’t exist in a vacuum. Inevitably there are things hovering in other spheres of knowledge that we collectively fail to account for; an additional perspective is never wasted.”

“You’re just hoping they’ll be intimidated into agreeing with you,” Godric said (causing Salazar to roll his eyes; observing the gambit aloud was so much less interesting than piling onto it with a gambit of one’s own. What a waste.). Godric winked at you. “You don’t have to answer her questions if you don’t want to.”

But you did answer the questions, where possible. Sometimes you didn’t even know how to begin to address the topics they mulled over together, but when you had a thought (and when that thought was asked for) you shared it.

You felt positively stupid, in their presence, but the way Rowena seemed able to peel some bit of wisdom out of anything you said, and the way Helga nodded along encouragingly as you spoke, and the way Godric grinned at you as though his expectations from other people were so low that any semi-coherent string of words was alright by him, and the way that Salazar seemed indifferent to whether or not you said anything at all brought you out of your shell somewhat.

You just knew that everyone (except for Rowena, whose mind was running at such a high level that you expected she could have found something profound in chipmunk chatter just as easily) was only humoring you if not altogether ignoring you, until one day Salazar interrupted Rowena with a calm, “But that’s not what they said, though, is it Rowena?”

“Pardon?” Rowena said, just as mildly.

“You misunderstood their point entirely. What they actually said was…” And then he proceeded to rephrase your statement in a much cleverer way, calling attention to the slight semantic divergence in what Rowena had assumed you meant.

Helga hummed in acknowledgement. “Sal’s right. That is what they said.”

“Interesting…” Rowena mulled it over.

From that day on, you began to notice that they _were_ paying attention to you. You began to hear your name in their conversations even when you weren’t with them, when you were moving about the tavern or tidying up the bar. And you became aware that Salazar seemed to always be keeping track of you- not watching constantly, but his gaze would flick to you if you moved from one part of the room to another, or if someone else moved closer to you.

One day, a drunken customer was a bit too close. Not threatening or even hostile, but awkwardly close and flirtatious as you wiped up a spill on the counter. That was nothing new; you smiled at him uncomfortably and carried on working. It was a busy day in the tavern; anyone would have been forgiven for not noticing the man, but across the room, Salazar whispered a few words to Godric, and a second later Gryffindor was shoving the drunken man away from you with a casual flick of his wand.

“Why don’t you come sit with us?” he offered, taking a moment to glare darkly at the man as he stumbled away.

“I shouldn’t…” you said, glancing over at his table to see Helga beckoning warmly. “I’m supposed to be cleaning up…”

“We’ll see to it that your employers don’t trouble you over it,” he assured.

And they did.

Every time they came to the tavern- which was every day, now -they asked you to sit with them, and every time you sat with them, they left several Galleons behind, for the tavern and for you.

You sat between Godric and Salazar, placing you entirely in the corner, practically in shadows. Helga asked what you wanted to eat and drink; she refused to let you sit there without eating something. Godric joked with and about you, sometimes wrapping an arm around your shoulders companionably. Rowena kept probing you for your opinions on things outside your understanding and pretending your answers were smart. Salazar continued appearing to ignore you while paying extremely close attention. You started to feel quite comfortable with them.

So you didn’t think much of it when they started to ask where you lived, how you lived, who you lived with.

“That area,” Salazar weighed in, sniffing with distaste. “Crawling with Muggles, isn’t it.”

“Don’t start,” Helga chided.

“You know they burn magical people at the stake,” Salazar continued.

“They burn _each other_ at the stake, misidentifying magic,” Rowena corrected. She only seemed to be half-in the conversation, as most of her attention was on the sketches she was making of their school’s floor plan. (You had asked her about those before and couldn’t fathom the sorts of magic she planned to imbue in the stones themselves, in the stairs and doors. Layers on layers, shifting and changing.)

“They do manage to catch witches and wizards who don’t know how to defend themselves,” Salazar said pointedly. “Hence why we are doing any of this in the first place.” He gestured at her sketches.

“You’re beating around the bush, Sal,” Godric said, rather lightly considering the subject at hand. He turned to face you, then. “Maybe you should stay with us.”

You blinked a few times. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we’re all living in Rowena’s manor, for the time being. Maybe you should stay there with us, rather than live where you risk discovery.”

“You don’t have to go to work, either,” Helga said, then blushed a little. “Hard work is a virtue, but I…we worry about you, in a place like this. It can get rowdy.”

“Are you…Are you being serious?” How were you supposed to agree to something like this, out of nowhere, from people you hadn’t known for more than a year, maximum?

“We like having you around,” Rowena said candidly, still sketching as though barely aware of the conversation she was in. “We miss you when we leave here, or when you’re absent. It’d be nice to have you…” Then she trailed off, as if finally losing focus completely. She added a note to her sketch.

“…have you in the manor with us,” Godric finished for her. “And then when our school is finished, you can live there with us as well. It would be perfect.”

“I don’t know…” You shift nervously.

“Now _you’re_ all beating around the bush,” Salazar said, then looked you directly in the eye, which was rare. “I already offered to owl the tavern a hundred Galleons a week if you stay in the manor with us. I’m pretty sure they’ll fire you if you refuse, and if you find other employment, I can make the same deal with them.”

“Sal, how indelicate,” Helga said, although her tone was not nearly scornful enough. “I’m sure we could have convinced them without-”

“Well, now we won’t have to,” Salazar said succinctly.

“It was a creative solution,” Rowena opined. “So long as they don’t take issue with it.”

“I take issue,” you stammered out.

“Then that’s a new problem,” Rowena sighed, sliding her sketches over to Godric. “But I have a few questions for you: Do you like working here, or do you only do it to survive?”

“Of course I work to survive, but…” You can’t figure out an end to your sentence; you’re too flustered.

“Well, survival is something we can provide; we’re fairly wealthy. We can keep you in comfort. Do you like living in your current home, or do you live there because you had nowhere else to be?”

“That’s not fair,” you protest.

“And that’s not an answer,” Godric said. “The point is this: You can be happier with us than you are here, and we will be happier if you are with us than if you are not.” He held Rowena’s sketch up close to his eyes, set it back down on the table, added another note, and slid it back to her.

“We really do want you to be happy,” Helga emphasized. “Salazar included.”

“We also don’t think it benefits you or us when you interact with other people,” Rowena said whilst eyeing Godric’s edits. “Godric and Sal were quite close to hexing the-”

“Ro,” Godric interrupted. “Maybe a bit less candid?”

Rowena frowned perplexedly at him. “But it bolsters our argument. No one stands to benefit from them being around other people. Eventually, one of us is going to curse someone- it’ll probably be you.”

“What? Why me?”

“Salazar is the most possessive, but he wouldn’t settle for cursing someone under most circumstances; he’d unravel the person’s entire life. Helga would harm anyone who upset our dear one, but she’d do something more in the vein of incapacitation than violence: turn them into a badger, maybe.” (Helga chuckled as though the idea appealed to her.) “And I would curse someone, but I feel you’d likely get to them first, as I imagine I would have a more convoluted way of doing it than you would. And at any rate, your tolerance is lower. You’ve gotten angry with people for brushing against them by accident, whereas I just don’t like it when they talk to them.” Rowena handed the sketch over to Salazar. “This is good.”

There was a pause in which you could have said something, but you couldn’t imagine what. Protestation got you nowhere, and it was quite clear to you that you weren’t skilled enough at magic to get away from them if you tried.

“Inside the walls?” Salazar observed, tracing a finger along the page’s incoherent web of ink.

“Where else would we keep them?”

“Is a room that only we can enter too straightforward?”

“Well, they’ll need space,” Helga said. “To take walks, and things. It’s only healthful. This way, they can roam freely without being troubled by students or staff.”

“I don’t…” Your voice gave up on you. Godric patted you on the back as if consoling you over your weak attempt.

“We can talk about this at home,” Helga said gently. “Come on; let’s go.”

Godric guided you to your feet (You didn’t resist.), and Salazar’s hand hovered near your elbow as you rose, as if ready to catch you if you fell or grab you if you pitched in either direction.

Helga drew you into an embrace and walked with you into the fireplace. “Ravenclaw manor,” she said, and she dropped the Floo powder, and you were devoured by green flames.


	2. Chapter 2

Only Helga's steady grip kept you from falling to the floor when the two of you materialized beneath the mantle of a parlor that could very well have been larger than your entire home.

"Careful, dear," she said affectionately, leading you out of the fireplace and sitting you on one of the many sofas.

The room was blue-carpeted, with furniture in bronze and dark brown. There were books everywhere, in stacks of varying size, and several portraits on the wall (mostly slumbering, although one contained a portly man who was sweeping up a cluttered attic room).

"The others will be along," Helga assured. "You can have a bath and dress in some of your new clothes in the meantime."

Dress in what?

"Fidelius?" Helga added, almost as an afterthought, and suddenly a short, odd-looking creature appeared before her.

"Yes, Madame Hufflepuff?" the creature said, dropping into a deep bow.

"Could you please draw a bath? I fear Dearest has had a long day."

"Of course, Madame Hufflepuff." Then the creature, a house elf it must have been, turned...and bowed to _you_. And then it vanished, presumably to obey Helga's polite command.

"Rowena named him when she was a child," Helga said, misinterpreting (perhaps deliberately) your quietly bewildered expression. "He is a part of her estate, but she instructed him to follow our orders as well. Not _yours_ , dear," she added apologetically. "If you need anything, it would be best if you came to us about it, rather than him. It's only, if you were given command of him, he would meet your demands indiscriminately, and that sort of wouldn't do, would it?" Her smile was exceedingly kind. "They are such noble creatures, house elves, don't you think?"

"I've never seen one in person," you said hoarsely.

"Oh, I suppose not," Helga said, her eyes widening. "Rowena will be sad to have missed your reaction; she always says first impressions are terribly fascinating."

You were beginning to feel increasingly nauseous as it sank in how cornered you were. Your mind screamed at you to run, but you couldn't find the courage; you didn't know what would happen. Given the size of this parlor, you would probably get lost in the house itself, and anyway there was...Helga. Nothing about her gave the impression that she would harm anyone, but somehow that dissonance made her more unsettling, because nothing about her gave the impression that she would kidnap someone, and yet here you were. You were afraid to think of what sorts of things she could do with that same warm smile in place.

"I can show you to your room, now," she offered, extending a hand. "And then to your bath."

She led you through an ornate door and down into a long, dim corridor.

"This is one of the underground levels," Helga informed you. "Sal's room is on this hallway, because he says Godric and I are too noisy." She chuckled fondly. "He also- Salazar, I mean -wanted you to sleep next door to him, but I didn't want you sleeping underground, so we compromised."

Now you were going _up_ a set of stairs, spiraling around and around until you reached a circular room with an enormous, soft-looking bed, a writing desk and chair, a wardrobe with mirrors on its doors, and many windows allowing in the sunlight.

"His hallway is the only way to access this room," Helga said. "It can't even be seen from outside. Designing it gave us a few ideas for the school, as well. We left the decor a bit barebones, despite Godric's best efforts, because we didn't want to encourage you holing up in here, but it should be comfortable regardless." She seemed to be waiting for you to confirm that you were satisfied with the arrangements.

"It's lovely," you said cautiously. "I think I'd miss my own room, though."

"This _is_ your room," she reminded sympathetically.

"I mean..."

Helga mercifully interrupted your attempts to find the right words: "I know that you mean your old room, at your old house. I'm sure that this will be an adjustment. But we want to make you happy here. We want to take care of you. So, I think it would be nice if you tried to think of this manor as your home, as Godric and Sal and I have come to." She smiled. "Until our school is finished, of course."

"I just...find all of this sort of...strange?"

"It will be strange," Helga agreed sagely. "If you need help getting used to it, of course you can always talk to me."

Getting used to it.

"Your bath will be ready by now," she digressed, taking your arm and gently leading you from the room.

...

You wondered if there had been some sort of potion in the bathwater, because it felt as though calmness had sunk deep into your skin, clear through to your bones, as you stood in front of the mirror in your new clothes. They fit you perfectly, which was perplexing because even your own clothes that you yourself purchased didn't fit you this well. You could hear voices above you, their voices; the other three had arrived upstairs and were conversing calmly. This would likely have distressed you, but the bath inclined you to more or less roll with the punches.

Your wand had been missing for a while now, but it wouldn't have done you much good anyway. Not worth worrying over.

Someone knocked on your door, and while this did not disrupt your calm, you didn't respond. Irrationally, you wondered if you could pretend you weren't there.

"Darling?" Helga's voice called through the door.

You hesitated a moment longer, then went to open it. It wasn't like it could lock anyway.

"You look lovely," Helga swooned, spinning you around. "The others will love it. Come up into the sitting room; Fidelius has made snacks."

You allowed her to walk you by hand out of the room, although your trepidation was slowly increasing, as though the air of the underground hallway was gradually siphoning away the effects of the bath.

"Where did these clothes come from?" you asked, your voice shaking a little.

"We made them," Helga said easily. "Godric mostly; he has a great eye."

"Did you charm them to fit me?"

"Hm? Oh, I suppose we could have, but Salazar already had your measurements."

You blinked several times. "How did he have my measurements?"

"Oh, he has a way of finding out things about people; we've stopped asking how he knows. Well...Rowena hasn't."

The two of you reached the top of the stairs. You walked through the parlor, down another hallway, and up to a door through which the voices were noticeably louder.

You hoped to linger by the door for a few seconds to prepare yourself, but Helga pushed the door open and ushered you through into a room that, similar to the parlor, was full of chairs and couches and paintings and books. (Did all mansions have multiple sitting rooms, rendering each other obsolete?) As always, the scholars had books and papers in their laps; Rowena and Salazar were scrawling at theirs while Godric talked at them about some magical concepts you couldn't comprehend.

Godric trailed off mid-sentence to appreciate your arrival. Salazar and Rowena likewise turned to regard you, and one of the paintings on the wall paused in its game of cards to ask, "This is the one, Rowena?"

"Yes, this is the one," Rowena answered the painted version of probably a dead relative of hers.

The painting sniffed and said, "Doesn't look like much."

Rowena rolled her eyes; Salazar turned a slow, almost lazy glare on the portrait; and Godric sat up from his casual lounge as though it was possible that he might physically fight it. Helga's hand tightened on your shoulder, and she swiftly cast a spell to silence the portrait and then eased you into a seat. You watched as the portrait continued to work its mouth, clearly trying to speak and indignant at its own inability to form sounds. Helga hummed, satisfied.

"You look divine," Godric told you, relaxing back again.

"Thank you," you whispered back.

"Are you hungry? Fiddy made biscuits." He lifted a bronze dish covered in small pastries.

"They're just like the ones you ate at your old house," Helga added. "Except they're...how to put it?"

"Not cheap," Salazar provided calmly.

Godric laughed. "You really are the worst, Sal, do you know that?"

"You may have mentioned it before," Salazar drawled.

"Eat something, love," Helga urged, taking the dish from Godric and sitting it on your lap.

"Is there potion in it?" you asked.

They all laughed- even Salazar and Rowena, who rarely seemed to find anything particularly funny. Not derisive laughs, really- mild, companionable amusement seemed to be the general tone -but it still wasn't an encouraging response to such an important and straightforward question.

"I suppose that's fair," Godric said.

"If there _were_ some potion, it wouldn't be anything malignant," Rowena promised.

"Dearest, you barely ate a thing back at the table," Helga reminded you. "I want you to eat until you're satisfied. Please." She said the word with surprising sternness.

You took a biscuit from the plate and ate it.

"Very good." Helga kissed your temple, which caused you to freeze up.

"Getting handsy there, Hufflepuff?" Godric teased. "Perhaps Dearest should sit with me. You've had caretaking privileges all day."

"Do you mean 'for the past two hours'?" Helga said evenly.

"He does," Rowena confirmed. "Though we all agreed to the timetable. Godric's greedy."

" _Salazar's_ greedy," Godric said, sounding playfully wounded. "He got the closest bedroom."

"I am not the one on trial," Salazar said.

"You three can never just celebrate a good day," Helga sighed, even her exasperation sounding fond. "You always have to cut it into pieces and complain over the minutiae."

"Spoken like someone who's had two uninterrupted hours-"

"The hours _were_ interrupted, because I chose not to watch our Dearest bathe, and as I recall you three were rather busy yourselves."

This caused Godric's complaints to subside, which made you wonder what exactly they had been doing before arriving here. All of them seemed, for some reason, so taken with being in your presence, and it now occurred to you how odd it was that three of them had been absent for such a while.

"What do you mean, 'busy'?" you broke the albeit-brief silence.

Helga turned to you with a smile. "Oh, they've just had errands to run, Lamb."

The ambiguity did not relax you.

"Eat another biscuit," Helga suggested.

"Did you find the room to your liking?" Godric asked.

"It's lovely," you said, for the second time, although this time it was delayed by a mouthful of biscuit. These treats were truly amazing; it was unfair how luxurious everything here seemed.

"It had better be, as much as they argued over it," Salazar said.

"'They'? I forgot you had so little to say on the subject," Godric said.

"I withdrew from the argument once the _placement_ of the room was settled; I did not take part in the twelve-hour discourse as to whether she should have a writing desk."

"The duration of the argument is not nearly as important as its conclusion," Rowena interjected, frowning at Salazar. "I believe we settled on a satisfying conclusion."

"That's because your concession was ultimately meaningless."

"You're one to talk," Godric chuckled.

 _"We're always like this,"_ Helga whispered in your ear. _"It's how we get our ideas out; it's healthy. The troubling thing is when we're all silent."_

"Whatever she's whispering is slander," Godric told you.

"I just..." You cleared your throat, nervously wondering how you could even begin to ask to leave when these brilliant sorcerers all seemed so invested in keeping you here. "I'm glad I don't have to go to work tomorrow, really. It just...seems...like this might be overstepping a bit."

"Does it?" Salazar said, in a darkly sarcastic tone like creeping frost, nearly making you shiver. "That hadn't occurred to us; thank you so much for your insight."

"What Salazar means is, we've discussed this rather a lot and thought of it from many angles," Helga said. "We determined that it's objectively beneficial to all concerned parties that we go through with this. We've been planning it for weeks."

"Also, at this point, I think their emotional convictions exceed their intellectual convictions, so arguing with them on the grounds of logic is rather a hopeless endeavor," Rowena said. "We _want_ you here."

"But _you_ can be argued with using logic?" you probed, near-desperate.

"Possibly," Rowena allowed, "but to be frank, I don't know that you can win an argument with me, especially since your reasoning isn't logically-based either; you want to leave because you value your freedom, not because you're able to construct a strong case for it. And I value your presence too much to be moved by this."

"So we're all biased," Godric summarized, lifting his hands as if to say _What can you do?_. "The difference being that you can be happy here but we cannot be happy if you are not here."

"No, the difference is that there's three of us and Dearest could not escape if they tried," Salazar said flatly.

"Fair point," Rowena murmured, scribbling something.

"Don't say 'escape'," Helga chided. "You make it sound as though we're _imprisoning_ -"

"By definition, we are," Rowena interrupted, "however pleasant the accommodations or good the intentions."

"What if...I just came to visit here on weekends?" you suggested, earning a downright pitying look from Godric. "Or...after work every other day? Every day, even?"

"It's not enough," Rowena said. "None of us are productive when you are not present and accounted for. Even on a pragmatic level, keeping you here means that we can improve our work speed because we minimize the time we each spend out of the manor."

"But...this isn't normal!" It was a weak protest, but you had to say it. "This isn't something that...is done!"

"So we're innovators in a greater variety of fields than we had estimated," Godric joked. It was becoming infuriating how casual they were about this, but not so infuriating that you forgot their power over you.

"Helga said you'd need time to adjust," Rowena sighed. "That's fine; your reluctance to engage is not entirely new. Enthusiasm was never much of a criterion."

Another one of the portraits spoke up: "This is what you have instead of a husband, Rowena? Ill-spoken, poorly-postured-"

Helga fired off another silencing spell.

"When I find a way to safely counteract a Permanent Sticking Charm, Rowena, may I say that a few of your relatives' likenesses will be tinder," Salazar said.

"I would appreciate that," Rowena said, smiling, "although perhaps more productive would be to have our school built as soon as we can."

"And populate it with kinder portraits," Helga suggested.

"Or at least less boring ones." Rowena clicked her tongue critically.

You closed your eyes and sat wearily back, your face turned toward the ceiling. The hopelessness of the situation, somehow, was wearing away at your fear so that you were mostly just aggravated, and tired. This entire situation was ridiculous, to the highest degree, and you just wanted to go to your stupidly large bed and hide from the rest of today.

Apparently noticing this and deeming it an appropriate time to become defensive, Salazar said, "Surely we've already mentioned that having you out in the world interacting with other people has made more than one of us a trifle homicidal."

"I'm almost certain the word 'homicide' never came up, Sal," Helga said.

"Well, perhaps it should have; Dearest does not appear to be taking this seriously."

"There are better ways," Rowena said vaguely.

"This _is_ the better way."

"On that much we've already agreed, but I believe you misunderstand my original statement."

Godric loudly cleared his throat, deliberately drawing your attention his way just as you were trying to understand what the pair's exchange meant. "I'm sorry for their rudeness. Some people have no social skills."

Rowena looked slightly hurt. "But I am being social; I'm saying my thoughts out loud and everything."

"Ignore him," Helga encouraged her, flashing an annoyed look at Godric, who already appeared contrite. "You know Dric can be thoughtless sometimes."

"Yeah, ignore me," Godric said, leaning in to pat Rowena's shoulder. "I just like being the center of attention, as Salazar always says. Speaking of..." So grandly that he could only have been parodying himself, Godric stood and offered you his hand. "May I interest Our Darling in a walk through the hallways? It really is a lovely manor, and you would probably like to acquaint yourself with the library, as we'll be there often and therefore so will you."

"You have a library inside your house?" you said, and your amazed tone seemed to cheer Rowena up, where Helga's assurances and Godric's apology had failed. For the first time, her pensiveness, while not gone from her expression completely, yielded to something brighter, something intense and yearning and uncomfortable to look at, as you could feel that it was directed at _you_.

"Oh yes," she answered. "It's very...Well, I suppose you'll see it shortly, so I won't color your initial perception of it.

Rather than continue to wait for you to take his hand, Godric took yours and helped you to your feet. "Right this way, love," he said.

Salazar's eyes followed the pair of you as you exited the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment! I love comments!


	3. Chapter 3

Godric kept up a lively, almost entirely one-sided conversation the whole time he walked you through the manor. Every now and again, he would break pace to share some anecdote about a room that the pair of you were passing.

Either he had mistaken an alarming number of rooms in this mansion for loos when he first moved in, or he was recycling the same story over and over to goad you into questioning him. You wouldn't put either past the man, but you also did not feel like humoring him.

Probably in response to the fact that you weren't laughing, Godric eventually slowed to a stop and crossed his arms. "Alright," he said, with disproportionate finality. "We'll not move another step until I see a smile."

You were sure your responding expression was indignant, but he didn't yield, and despite his playful smirk, something in his eyes (not quite threatening, but abnormally invested) told you that he would do unspeakable things to get you to smile at him.

So, you showed your teeth, in an empty grimace that was apparently acceptable.

"Fine," he said, "but I'll be expecting a better one later!"

He led you around some more, eventually passing a shut door from which a loud _bang_ suddenly emanated, as though something had been knocked over inside the room.

You assumed that it was a particularly clumsy house elf or something, until you heard Godric's quiet chuckle and his murmur, "We did warn him not to try."

His vindictive tone made goosebumps rise on your flesh. "Who?" you asked.

He patted you on the back dismissively. "Don't worry about it."

You didn't ask any more questions, but you made note of the room for later.

...

There were no judgmental portraits in the library, and no trays of sweets, and, funny enough, no stacks of books sitting out; every book was on a shelf, carefully ordered and immaculate. The room was silent, in a sort of reverent way that almost didn't make sense- it was only right for a formerly-empty room to be silent; why should that have any emotional weight to it? -but nevertheless, that was the atmosphere. Crisp, and awake, but also peculiarly reserved. You were almost tempted to say it felt churchlike; that was the only comparable thing.

There were large windows, and cushioned seats beneath the windows. (You could see the grounds outside: rolling green hills and guileless blue sky, like something out of a dream.) There was even a window on the ceiling, with prismatic glass that sent rainbow light all over. Dust particles hung, dreamlike, in the air but seemed to settle on nothing; magic protected the books and furniture from all manner of soil.

No two ways about it, this was a beautiful room in a beautiful house.

Godric chuckled at your expression. "That's one for the Pensieve."

You were so busy drinking in the room, it took you a second to half-process his words. "The...What do you mean?"

"Part of our agreement," he said concisely. "Since all of us played a role in securing you, all of us reap the benefits. That includes memories. So, any one of us could ask to see the memories of the others. Provided it's a memory of you. I'm saying that the others will want to see your face at this moment."

All things considered, you could be forgiven for being too overwhelmed to even react to his words with more than a thin, "If only you respected me as much as you respect each other."

Godric merely smiled and put a consoling arm around your shoulders. "We have to make agreements to maintain the peace and make sure we're meeting each other's needs. I'm sure we'd be open to making agreements with you, provided you stop harping on the fact that you aren't allowed to leave. As that is nonnegotiable."

"Whose idea was it?"

"The memory thing?"

"Yes."

"It was Salazar's idea. I imagine he wouldn't _blink_ in your presence, if he could manage it."

"He doesn't even seem to like me."

Godric let out a grim sort of laugh. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, believe you me."

You definitely preferred him when he wasn't saying blatantly ominous things.

"You can look at the books, if you'd like," he carried on. "They'll return to the right place on the shelves when you're done, and they can't be torn or dirtied, so feel free."

You only wasted half a glance acknowledging his ironic choice of words; then, you roamed the shelves. You didn't immediately reach for any books; for a while, you wandered, just reading the titles. So many books in one place, more magical texts than you had thought even existed...it was overwhelming. Others of your kind really were writing things, learning things, doing things, and most magical people had no access to it. The concept of the magical school they were making suddenly grew in your mind, grew from merely a good idea to an absolute necessity. Magical books, and for children, _children_ to have access, to learn and understand what they were and the history of others like them...

Something you hadn't known you had been missing now thrummed inside you. They had to make the school. They had to. But...But what about you? You still had to get free, and you suspected that if you somehow managed to get out of the mansion, to get far away, they would look for you. They would search, and another generation of magical children would miss out on all of this accumulated knowledge. Of course, that could hardly be considered your fault, and the idea that you could escape the mansion in the first place was ludicrous, but it had been something to hope for, and now that hope was tarnished.

In the scheme of things, you could almost understand why they would consider your stolen autonomy mere collateral damage.

What did that leave? Tricking them? Tricking Rowena's keen mind and Salazar's wary eye and...and even the others were far from stupid, far smarter than you. No, impossible. So what did _that_ leave?

You stopped at a book with a particularly ornate cover and ran your fingers over its spine in wonder. You pulled it out a few inches, so that the book protruded from the shelf but was still kept in place by the books around it. Then you let go. As soon as you relinquished contact with the book, it was sucked back into its normal place on the shelf.

You smiled, then pulled it out again, this time all the way, and took a few steps back with it. You released the book, ready to catch it if it merely fell to the ground, but instead it dutifully sailed back to its place, snug between the other books.

Fascinating. Once more, you removed the book from the shelf, but this time you placed it on the floor and sat on it. No movement. You supposed sitting on a book counted as using it, or at least the magic of the library would regard it as such, as the book was not being reclaimed. You were about to stand, so as to try something else, but as soon as you were no longer touching the book, it shot back to the shelf so quickly, the shock of it caused you to fall backward onto your bum. Your startled laughter sang through the large room.

Godric chuckled from close by and helped you to your feet. "Another for the Pensieve. Rowena will love that one."

You tried to wipe all traces of mirth from your face but couldn't manage it for several seconds, only managing a still expression when you saw the smug look on Godric's face, as though your enjoying yourself for even a moment proved them right to abduct you.

It was genuinely unnerving, the depth of their conviction, their stubborn attachment to their own rightness.

"You stopped smiling," Godric observed, the smugness leaving his face and replaced by curiosity and that same abnormally invested look that had been in his eyes earlier.

"I stopped wanting to," you said quietly.

Suddenly, in a painless but unyielding grip, he took your chin between his fingers, pulled your face to his, and kissed your lips. It was a soft but hungry kiss; in his gentleness, there was a great deal of tension, as if he was barely holding himself back from devouring you, or at least biting your tongue. You gasped against his mouth and felt your heartbeat stutter quite uncomfortably, but Godric merely pulled back just a bit (so that his face came to be about a finger's-width away from yours) with a pleased smile and said, "Sal will be so jealous I did it first. You'll have to watch him; he'll want to compete with me."

You took several breaths and removed his hand from your chin, which he did nothing to prevent, before backing away a few steps.

He laughed, as if your evasion of him was endearing, and thankfully did not move closer. "Would you like another?" he asked.

"I didn't want the first," you said.

Godric pouted, exaggeratedly but not seeming completely ingenuine, and took a courteous step back from you. "I hoped you'd enjoy it. I suppose you haven't been made accustomed to physical affection yet, have you?"

You couldn't answer, your mind had locked on to the words "made" and "yet".

"When you've gotten used to it, I can't promise that I'll be the first to know," Godric said, with a wink that made dread settle in your stomach. "We have a lot of affection here."

...

Godric did not break physical contact with you the whole remaining time you spent in the library, nor in the hallway after; it wasn't until he was sitting you down at the dining table around which Salazar, Rowena, and Helga were already waiting that he withdrew his hand from your arm.

"Lingered a bit, didn't you, Godric?" Helga teased lightly.

"Our dear enjoyed the library," Godric said unabashedly, then winked at you again.

"I kept track of exactly how long you took," Salazar said, "and I will expect every second to be accounted for."

Godric rolled his eyes, pulled out his wand, and promptly siphoned the silvery wisp of memory from his head; Salazar collected it in a vial that he had apparently been waiting with. "We can all view it after dinner."

"That means that you will experience it twice," Rowena said, frowning.

"And you could experience it a hundred times, if you wanted," Godric pointed out, waving his arms dramatically. "It belongs to all of us now."

Helga met your eyes with companionable exasperation, then turned back to her friends. "Rowena, if you please..."

"Oh, of course." Rowena snapped her fingers, and dishes of steaming food appeared before everyone.

You gasped, first at the food's surprise appearance, then at how appetizing it all looked.

"Thank you, Fidelius," Rowena murmured before taking a sip from her goblet.

You honestly didn't know where to begin, but it didn't take you long to dig in. Everything tasted so good, it made your eyes water, and you gladly ignored the fact that your captors were all watching you eat, and tuned out the portrait who was asking Rowena why she wasn't wearing her diadem to the table ("seeing as you have a guest").

"Look how hungry," Helga cooed, with unconcealed glee. "Our darling needed us so badly. If they're this starved for food, imagine how starved they are for love."

"False equivalency, though the thought is...enticing," Rowena said. "That is, it's pleasant to think that there is longing on the other side of their reluctance and we will be meeting that need. And I suppose whether or not that is wishful thinking is, at this moment, irrelevant."

"Rowena..." Godric chuckled.

She looked over, as though wary of what he would say, but when she saw his amused expression, she relaxed and smiled along with him.

Your eyes took in their exchange while you chewed your food, then glanced at Salazar to find him still staring at you raptly. You swallowed, to dilute the returned dread. Godric had said that Salazar would want to "compete" with him, once he learned that Godric had kissed you. They would be watching the memory after dinner. And your room was only accessible through Salazar's corridor.

You wondered if it was possible to ask to sleep in Helga's room. 

Then again, she had just been leading the "starved for love" conversation, and you still weren't certain how that idea would manifest. Rowena seemed the least invested in touching you physically, and the most willing to engage you in rational discussion. Maybe she was a better choice. Even Godric...Well, _maybe_ Godric. He had been the only one to dare kiss you so far, but he had also backed off when told to. Depending on whether he took your protestations as an opportunity to be chivalrous or merely a source of amusement was what seemed to sway the outcome there, and that you couldn't much rely on. He would probably make a show of sleeping on the floor and giving you his bed, but you couldn't be sure that he wouldn't also climb in with you once you were already asleep.

All of that, and you doubted that anyone would agree to it, anyway. You were sure that if you asked to sleep in anyone's room, there would be protests from the others; they had carefully crafted their compromise to account for _their_ needs, and their own understanding of your needs.

You thought the matter over in smaller and smaller circles, returning to the same thoughts and eventually crossing into slightly distorted, blurred versions of the original topic. You were becoming drowsy. Your face met the table as your hand, still attempting to feed you one of the last few bites of the positively delectable meal, slackened its grip on the silverware and settled itself heavily beside your plate. Your eyes drew shut.

Helga cooed again while Godric went to scoop you up from your chair. Your head fell against his chest.

"Didn't even get to finish," he observed. "You've outdone yourself, Helga."

A tinkling laugh.

Godric spoke again: "Would you like to carry her to her room, Sal?"

"You're so generous."

"I am, aren't I?"

You were transferred into Salazar's arms. His hold was surprisingly gentle; his thumb rubbed soothing circles on your back, and you had to open your eyes a crack, just for a moment, to prove that it was really him.

He carried you from the dining room, Godric's distant voice calling out, "I'll be keeping track of exactly how long you're gone, and it had better be accounted for!", and you felt the slight vibrations of his silent laughter, even though you'd never known him to laugh at Godric's jokes.

"I could see you plotting, at the table," he murmured as he moved through the dark, silent halls. There was no edge to his voice; he sounded endeared, even playful. "Were you thinking of ways to escape? You won't manage it. I'm always watching."

You drifted off before he even descended the stairs.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment! Please! I'm begging you! XD


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